


ties

by Lamachine



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Breathplay, F/F, Light Bondage, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-28
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-26 05:15:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3838471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lamachine/pseuds/Lamachine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>through constriction comes release</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	ties

**Author's Note:**

  * For [karastantons](https://archiveofourown.org/users/karastantons/gifts).



> Written for karastantons's birthday. HAPPY BIRTHDAY YOU PERV!

More than an hour had passed since their number’s fancy gala and the inevitable gunfight in ill-suited clothes; yet Root still smelled like gunpowder and tasted like champagne. Shaw pushed her into the hotel’s bedroom, not worried about the way Root’s wrist hit the doorframe along the way. It would certainly bruise, turn purple and heat up in flares of pain whenever the skin would brush against the slightest thing. Something inside Shaw quivered lightly at the thought.

 

Her hair fell on her shoulders, tickling the skin just above her dark purple dress, the tight fabric loosened ever so slightly since the fight. But Shaw barely noticed, her eyes captured by Root’s outfit; a fine, elegant suit with a tie that matched Shaw’s dress so perfectly that the Machine undoubtedly had something to do with it. It annoyed Shaw for a second, the idea that anyone – any _thing_ – had a hand in this.

 

Whatever _this_ was.

 

In contrast with Shaw’s, Root’s hair had been neatly tied up in a knot, although some curls had wrangled free during the shootout. Shaw pictured running her fingers through it, messing it up; she grabbed Root by the waist instead, pulling her close, and pressed her lips against hers.

 

At the contact, an impossible flame flared up inside Shaw’s gut, lighting up like a gallon of gasoline catching fire. Root’s hands ran over Shaw’s back, embracing every curve that she no doubt knew by heart now. Shaw allowed the invasion, pushing her tongue inside Root in something akin to retribution. The warmth that washed over her was familiar and constricting, and for a moment her heart raced, beating painfully and so loud she thought even Root’s implant would pick it up.

 

She forced the choking feeling down her throat and bit Root’s lower lip until she heard a hiss and tasted blood. One hand grabbed Root’s tie, twisting it around her fist and pulling her down.

 

A quiet moan hummed in Root’s chest before she responded, strong hands pushing Shaw backwards, guiding her through the bedroom until she thrust her roughly against a wall. The impact resonated through Shaw’s bones, a reminder of her aching muscles and creeping exhaustion. Yet she ignored her body’s quiet warnings, and focused instead on the red lines that Root’s fingernails were grazing up her thigh.

 

“I’m overdressed,” Root breathed out, the words grounding, somehow. “Don’t you think?”

 

Shaw’s dry mouth couldn’t reply. She watched as Root stepped away, a grin curling up her lips. There was a devilish glee in her eyes – something almost predatory, and that echoed brightly in Shaw’s chest. It amplified the throbbing need between her legs and Shaw ran her tongue on her lower lip absently, catching the faintest taste of Root’s blood.

 

In front of her, Root slowly undid the buttons of her suit before she carelessly threw the blazer away. Instead of taking off the shirt, she rolled up her sleeves and Shaw blinked at the sight of tensed muscles, the skin lightly bruised.

 

“Should I keep it on?” Root asked, her eyes playful, one hand on her dark purple tie.

 

Shaw cleared her throat. “I don’t care.”

 

Root’s grin turned into a wider smirk. “I think you do,” she objected, her tongue peeking out to soothe her wounded lip.

 

Unhurried slender fingers undid the knot, the silence seemingly filled with the sound of skin brushing against silk.

 

“Now, now,” Root purred like a promise, “what should we do with this?”

 

Shaw rolled her eyes at the tone, despite it sending shivers of expectation down her spine.

 

“Give me your hands,” Root ordered.

 

Shaw wanted to protest, but she ended up extending both arms in front of her without a word, as if hypnotised. Root’s grin widened as she pulled on Shaw’s limbs, tugging her forward as her hands circled her wrists. It wasn’t long that fingers were replaced by fabric and Shaw blinked to find her two hands bound together by Root’s tie.

 

Between her legs, heat turned into liquid.

 

“You’ve been so good,” Root cooed in her ear, a hand cupping a breast over the fabric of Shaw’s dress.

 

“Shut up,” Shaw groaned before she swallowed hard.

 

Root laughed shortly, one hand snaking its way behind Shaw’s neck and urging her forward. She crashed their lips together and Shaw complied, her bound hands locked in place in front of her, pressed uncomfortably between their bodies. The faint aching it spread across her shoulder blades reminded Shaw of her vulnerability, a weakness she loathed and fought. The odd feeling of helplessness turned into anger, and yet it did nothing but feed her arousal.

 

Fingernails dug into her skin as Root deepened the kiss, pushing her tongue past Shaw’s sore lips. Shaw nearly stopped breathing at the invasion, the sense of her knees weakening snapping her instincts into action. She pushed Root off her as violently as she could muster, frustration flaring when Root only laughed.

 

It took only a second for Root’s traits to turn serious again, the stare almost threatening. “Get on the bed,” she commanded.

 

Shaw’s protests died as Root’s burning eyes met hers; a reminder of the sheer power she held over Shaw despite all logic. Shaw had long stopped questioning it and she walked over to the bed almost obediently, sitting on the edge to wait for instructions.

 

Root shook her head as if displeased. “On your knees,” she ordered.

 

Without a word, Shaw moved to kneel on the mattress, facing the wall with her bound hands resting on the headboard. The pillows brushed against Shaw’s knees as Root’s weight behind her shifted her balance.

 

Hands that Shaw could not see took the high heels off her feet, fingers deftly massaging the ankles before they moved up. The warm pressure relieved some of the tension in Shaw’s muscles, a strange comfort that didn’t quite fit with the tight knot around her wrists. Shaw clenched her jaw as Root’s hands reached her thighs, kneading the skin under her dress and ignoring the heat of Shaw’s pulsing labia.

 

Shaw wanted to pull Root closer and urge her on, but her wrists ached from where she resisted the bound and she cursed herself for ever agreeing to this. It built up inside her, desire and frustration all the same, a burning that demanded attention and that Root so blatantly ignored. She pressed herself against Shaw’s back, her teeth gnawing at the neck, hands coming to rest on Shaw’s waist.

 

“You’re so hot with your hair down,” Root purred in her ear before she bit her earlobe, and Shaw closed her eyes for a moment, allowing herself the release that came with the pain.

 

“I know,” she groaned.

 

Root laughed again, one hand moving forward, running over Shaw’s stomach, fingers slowly pulling up the fabric of her dress. “What about me?” she asked, the hand teasing while it dangerously lowered on Shaw’s skin. “Do you like my outfit?”

 

Shaw swallowed hard, but refused to give Root the satisfaction of an answer. The thrumming inside her chest and gut continued, her whole body turning wet and warm and burning; aching for some kind of release.

 

Root’s fingers reached her underwear, innocently toying with it. “Do you?” Root insisted.

 

Shaw hummed in approval just as Root’s index ran over her underwear where the fabric had soaked, betraying the pulsing labia underneath. “I think you do,” she cooed, pushing the garment down.

 

“Stop fishing for compliments,” Shaw grunted, her bounded hands clutching the headboard in expectation, “and get on with it.”

 

Root gasped lightly against her, a nail running down the length of Shaw’s wet cunt. “I wasn’t fishing,” she retorted, and yet she slipped a finger in, offering but the slightest release before she pulled out. “I was asking.”

 

Shaw groaned in frustration. “Well stop asking, then,” she insisted. As much as Shaw wanted to force Root’s hand back to where she needed it, the restraint around her wrists reminded her that she wasn’t in a position to bargain.

 

Root pulled up Shaw’s dress over her waist and squeezed her ass hard. “I really want to fuck you, Sameen,” Root promised, “but you have to be nicer to me.”

 

Shaw shook her head. “I’m not nice,” she nearly spit out the word.

 

“I know,” Root assured her, “I said _nicer_.”

 

A finger returned inside her, only to disappear just as quickly. The need built up inside Shaw, taking all the space and making her feel like she was about to explode.

 

“Fine,” she closed her eyes and let her head rest on her hands, surrendering. “I like your outfit.”

 

She heard a pleased hum before Root’s finger circled her clit, the nail almost gently grazing the skin. Shaw bit her lower lip as the digit moved painfully slow, and then stopped. “Root,” Shaw growled, grinding on Root’s finger as best she could, trying to get what she so desperately needed.

 

Root laughed as she pushed two fingers in. “Always in a hurry,” she muttered against Shaw’s shoulder before she bit down hard. The pain ran down Shaw’s spine, a warm wave that crashed against her bones, echoing inside, filling her like she wasn’t anything other than this unbearable liquid heat.

 

Root’s other hand pressed against her breast, solid, unyielding. Shaw felt irritation twist in her chest, the anger blending with the pleasure. She moved harder against Root’s hand and yet the rhythm slowed down, fingers barely moving inside her anymore. Still her need continued to grow, louder, stronger, threatening to take her whole.

 

One second _something_ was bursting inside and the next it was gone; all that remained was the urgent need, like a raging storm that refused to be silenced. It was a series of little implosions in Shaw’s gut, as if every barrier inside her destroyed itself one after the other, until she was left bare and drained.

 

As if Root was guiding her through a minefield, and making her step on every last bomb, gently, so fucking gently that Shaw wanted to scream. As if every small death brought her oh so close to finally bursting open.

 

Until there was nothing but Root’s heat against hers, melting on her skin despite the fabric of their clothes brushing together frantically.

 

And suddenly Root increased the pace, adding a third finger that made Shaw gasp ever so slightly. The unexpected pleasure washed over her, overwhelming her senses as Root fucked her harder, her second hand running down Shaw’s body and joining in. A finger circled on her clit, four little strokes that pushed Shaw over the edge so rapidly that it felt like falling and exploding all at the same time.

 

Shaw breathed out Root’s name, something between a curse and a prayer, breath spilling out of her like she was emptying herself entirely. Only Root’s firm arms wrapped around her and kept her still, her bounded wrists resting against the headboard with so much of her weight that it pained her slightly. Shaw wondered absently if she would bruise.

 

Root stayed close until Shaw shrugged her off, then licked her fingers with a grin while Shaw turned around. Shaw undid the knot that had tied her hands together, ignoring the red it spread on her cheeks as Root looked pleased with herself, in the knowledge that Shaw could’ve freed herself at anytime.

 

Once she was done Shaw moved on the mattress, crawling closer to Root who sat quietly at the end of the bed. Root didn’t move or blink while Shaw wrapped the tie around her neck, tying the knot with the fabric against Root’s skin instead of inside the collar of her shirt. Root’s eyes gleamed and Shaw felt a smug grin curling up her own lips.

 

“I _really_ like the outfit,” Shaw repeated before she ripped open the shirt, a button flying off. She pushed down the cusp of Root’s bra, just enough to reveal a nipple that she quickly hid between her lips. She bit on it roughly, feeling Root’s hiss more than she heard it, and relishing in the way Root’s body contracted and relaxed at the same time.

 

“Thanks,” Root faintly breathed out.

 

Shaw’s deft hands undid Root’s belt and unzipped her pants as she continued to lick and bite at her breast, not satisfied until the skin was red and sore. She didn’t wait for Root to beg; she pushed her down on the mattress and snaked a hand inside her underwear, finding her wet and ready.

 

As two fingers pushed in and out of Root, Shaw’s other hand grabbed Root’s tie into a fist. She locked her eyes into Root’s before she pulled on the fabric, tightening the knot. Root’s pupils dilated slightly at the restriction of her breath and Shaw fucked her harder, concentrated on Root’s every expression, memorising them without a word.

 

Root closed her eyes for a second, biting on her lower lip as she grinded on Shaw’s fingers. One of her hands fisted the sheets under her as the other reached up, clutching the back of Shaw’s neck and pulling her down.

 

“Fuck me harder,” she nearly begged and Shaw groaned at the sound, her own arousal reawakening. She increased the pace as much as she could, somewhat restrained by Root’s clothes.

 

At the new rhythm Root closed her eyes again, and Shaw tugged on the tie slightly. “Look at me,” she asked and Root fluttered her eyelids open, a glassy look gazing at Shaw with a warmth Shaw preferred to ignore.

 

She came in silence, blurred vision locked on Shaw’s face. It left Shaw with a strange knot in her throat and an uncomfortable heat spreading across her sternum. She swallowed hard and drew her fingers out of Root, pulling apart slightly.

 

Loosening the knot around Root’s neck, Shaw found red gashes on the skin underneath, where the tie had choked her. Root sighed in contentment, the hand on Shaw’s neck dropping to circle her wrist instead, Root’s other fingers brushing her own throat absently, soothing the skin.

 

Shaw frowned at the sight; it felt like it had a meaning she couldn’t imagine or understand, but she didn’t question it. She allowed for Root’s quiet moment, a few seconds of silence before she pushed herself off her. As she stood she smelled both of their perfumes strangely mixed on her own skin, the gunpowder scent almost entirely gone.

 

Somehow it always was, after Root.


End file.
